


Arrival 3 part 1

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Deliberate Badfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Mulder-Krycek-Mulder-Krycek-manpole-eek!
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Fox Mulder
Collections: TER/MA





	Arrival 3 part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> TER/MA September 1999 Challenge. It is time to have some fun. This is one everybody is capable of doing, I think. Even the best writers among us. *g* So, we all read a lot of slash, right? And we have all run across stories or mistakes so bad, we groan in misery and wonder what the hell the writer was thinking. We all have little terms and pet peeves we hate to see in stories. Well this month's challenge is to write badfic. I want to see stories that make me laugh they are so dreadful. I want weeping manpoles, pendulous nutbags, winking puckered starfish of love, glistening bosoms...wait—that is the wrong genre. If you mean you're, I want your. Two,to and too can come and go at will. Go find the worst mistakes you can , and write a story which includes them. Whatever you do, DONT beta. Write it at 5 in the morning after drinking 5 cups of expresso and not sleeping for 48 hours. Or write it after having 18 shots of tequilla (or the poison of your choice). Whatever doesn't work for you. Make it so dreadful, you can't read it without hanging your head in mock shame. And above all, have fun with it... --- OK, word of warning here. These are really dreadful. All are NC-17 for really bad taste. If you looking for a good read, go elsewhere.

  
**Arrival 3 part 1  
by Dr Ruthless**

  
The sun rose over Fox Mulder's couch illumanating the sleepeing man in all his gory. How pretty he was how beautifull as he slept mouth open spread all over the furnature like a cheese slice on a burger. 

As ususal he was fully dressed and his clothes were all wrinked and baggy even though they were designer fashioun. His hot and manly body radiated sex appeal and body odour in equal quantities as his chin grew progressively more, stubbly as the day broke all over him. 

He was snoring sofly as a chain sore, and the muffled grunts he made were as sexy as the drool that leaked form the side of his mouth and ran down his beautfull chin to shine in the sunlight like a diamond in the ear of one of those guys that go around in boats robbing people. Come to think of it, the stubble looked like that too and if he hadn't been wearing Armani desinger clothes the rest of him might have too although he did look all messy and untidy but he didn't have a parrot sitting on his shoulder or a wooden leg either so he didn't exactly look like one after all. He looked beautiful. 

When the door opened silently to reveal his usual unwelcome visitor he didn't move a muscle, he just lay there as beautiful as ever and snored as he slept, like a baby only much more sexy than a baby and of course he wasn't wearing a diaper. He was beaitifull and when his visitor saw him his eyes nearly fell out of his head. The visitors head of coarse, not Mulders head, His eyes couldn't because they were closed, because he was asleep. Beautifully. 

The visitor shimmied and undulated in through the door, but he did open it first. I mean he didn't just crash in and leave a hole in it or anything like that and he got over, to where the sleeping man lay sleeping. He could see that Mulder was looking beautifull but he was asleep in his clothes which was something his Mom had told him never to do and so he always took them off when he went to sleep but he had a bed and didn't very often spend the night on the couch 

He ran his eyes over the beaurtifull mans sleeping form and thought how beautiflu he was with the sun shinihng on his long legs and his squishy lips, and as he did so, the oohs and ahhs of multitudes of slash writers floated to him on the breeze, making him jump slightly, for he was always on his guard. 

"I am a handsome prince," he thought to himself, in Russian of course because he usually thoght this kind of thing in Russian because it was a lugubrious lagwidge, and that kind of thing sounded really good in it even though he didn't say it out loud, just thought it like in a bubble over his head. "and I am hear to awaken the beautifull sleeping beauty with a kiss." And he knelt down beside the beautiful sleeping man ready to plant a wet one on his lips. 

A sardonic smile played across his features, and he rubbed his face ass he reflected that the different words smile and mouse were very similar in french and if he had been doing a sardonic smile in French it could have been a mouse by mistake and he would have looked very silly with a sardonic mouse playing across his features. 

French was not his best subject at school and he recalled that once he had written that cars gnawed at the sidewalk instead of lining up against it and everyone had laufhed at him but he hadn't shot them even though hie was an assassin in the making because his mom would have been mad. 

He looked around him. This place was a mess. How could Muldrer live like this? For shame. He leaped to his feet and picked iup the coffee cups and all the booze glasses form the coffee table He also picked up the mug with the small green fury thing in it that Muledr had recently been cultyvating. The intruder didn't know that Moulder talked to it, or that he called it Boris. In fact one day he was hoping that it would grow big and strong enough for him to have sex with it, but the intruder didn't know that. 

In the kitchen he found the cleaning stuff and began to spray polish on all the surfaces wiping them clean and buffing them up to a blirriant shine as Malder slept on. He didn't make any attempt to polish Molder though because that would have woken him up and then he would have been distracted from his task. The intruder would of, I mean, not Muldire. His task was sleeping and he was performing that quite adequately. 

Entering the bathroom, he was appalled. Their was black mould growing on the grout. And he took the bleach and got busy using Mudlers toothbrush because that was all he could find that would getinto all the cracks. 

In no time flat the apartment was clean and gleaming. His Mom would have been proud of him. Turning to the kitchen, he watched the dishes, the counter tops and then the floor using Mr. Clean because it had a white tornado in it and he knew that was good because he had seen it on the tv and so it must be true. 

He checked his watch and saw that Kathie Lee and Regis would soon be on and so he made himself a cup of tea and settled down to enjoy himself as the show began. 

He hoped Kathie Lee would sing. 

Mluder woke up stretching his long and beautifluu limbs and looked around him. He yawned a bone cracking yawn, and his bones cracked. Something was wrong. Where was he? This wasn't his appartment. He had been abducted by aliens during the night and dropped off at a diifrent location. Kathie lee was at that moment wrinkiling her cute little nose as she said somehting wittly ad for a moment he was distracted but he soon turned around and began to search for his Boris. 

Horror of horrors his Boris was gone he knew not where.he pouted luxuriously and then caught sight of his unwanted visitor sprawled all over his suddenly clean carpet. 

"Krychek, where's Boris?" He looked so lost that Krycek wanted to squeeze his poochy cheeks for him but he didn't and anyway he was used to Mudder angsting about something or other so he merely shrugged his broad and manly shoulders in a manner that his tight Tea shirt with "Patience my ass I wanna kill something " written on it in luminous green lettering showed off to the fullest and Murder gazed angrily at his unwelcome visitor and Krycheck thought how beatiful he was when he was like this. 

"With Natasha, I imagine" said the double triple agent who had at least several alleigunces and more flavours than Haagen Dasz but who was sitting here in his own living room. I mean Murdlers own living room not Crychecks they hadn't actually moved apartments or anything like that even thought when there are aliens about sometimes that can occur but not this time because the aliens were nowhere to be seen and anyway this is the X-Files and you never actually see them althought you know pretty weel that it's a dead sert that they are out there somewhere and no alien in its right mind would go near Muttleys apartment anyway. 

"Are you trying to be funny?" said Muler, his splendid pout in full view as he postured butchly but beautifully. He rolled his fist up into a ball to threaten the grinning ratfink who was even now denying him information that was rightfully his. Mutlers that is, not Kryfics, it couldn't have been rightfully crayfishes because he was a bad guy and didn't deserve to have any rightful information so he had better give it to Muesli right now and not mess around any more. 

Yanking the rat to his feet by one mighty haul of his bulging musckles Maldive brought him to stand eye to eye with him, nose to nose, toe to toe, and unfortunnately all the wobbly bits in the middle that Kraychoke knew his mom would not be happy for him to put next to Murbler even if he was beautiful. Especially, thought Crowcheque to himself, especially if he was beautiful. And he was.

They stood belligerently eye to eye as I have already mentionned and the beefiful good guy raised his fist to whack the sexy bad guy but Kryfic didn't want to be whacked particularly as he thought it no payment at all for his hard work cleaning up the pigsty of an apartment that Munster called home but he thought just wait until you use your toothbrush my man that will supprise you. Then he forgot about his mom for a moment and kissed beautiful Muscler's beautiful moth. Before the toothbrush got to it. 

As he did so, he felt the earth move, thunder roared, bells rang, sirens blasted, and a little blinkie thing flashed before his eyes as klaxons went awooga awooga. He broke the kiss to look around hesitantly and all fell quiet. Mluder grabbed him and resumed the liplock and there it went again. Karcek wondered, what on earth? Since when had necking become so noisy? 

"Muggler, why fight? You cannot win against me even if you do punch me out from time to time. You might as well face the inevitalbe, we were made for each other." The Rat's snot-green eyes glowed like those stickers you stick on your ceiling that shine in the darkness, only brighter. 

Murler fixed his beloved intruder with a baleful glare and Krycick felt as though the very fibres of his being were being withered, and not wanting any of his fibres withering right then thank you very much he raised his chin with a magnicifant air of haughtiness and poked is gun into Murblers tummy with another sardonic smile or maybe a mouse, it's a bit difficult for me to tell, because I'm not very good at french living in the wrong part of Canada for that. 

He used his hand to poke the gun in though, not the smile, or the mouse. 

"Your not gonna hit me today, it takes me forever to explain the bruises to my Mom. She doesn't want me to play with rough boys." He drew a deep breth that rippled his manly muscles and Mouldy released him from the viscous grip he had on his shoulders. 

"Well, can we have sex instead?" said Mulder hopefully as the younger man wriggled agaist him causing his blood pressure to rise a notch or two and also his turgid manpole to rise to attention in the most forceful manner imaginable, causing all the blood to drain away from his head as it burst unbidden from his cunningly draped Armani pants. The manpole, not the blood, the blood was inside the manpole, you know, that's why it got turgid. He fainted from lack of blood to the brain and passed out on the hard floor at Karfuck's feet leaving him to hold his gun and look amazed. 

He dropped to his knees beside the older man allowing his eyes to run all over his beaurtifull clean limbed body. His massive hardness tented the fabric of his silk pants like a tent. Krycheck had never seen anything so lovely and his mouth watered. 

He felt his own passion rising or maybe it was the sardines on toast he had had for lunch He never should have combined them with the vodka. Swallowing, he reached to free the older, but very beautiflu FBI agent from his garments and unleashed his staggering love muscle to wave menacingly in the breeze. 

Well, actually there was no breeze, that's a bit of poetic license, but if there had been a breeze it would have been waving in it that's for sure. 

"Krycek." Murmered Mulder, passionately. 

"Mulder" Krycek responded, equally passionately 

"Oh, Krycek" Mulder said, and his voice throbbed in the most throbbing manner. 

"Oh," Krycek went on the air again, as he felt that he really had to sat something. "Oh, Mulder!" 

Then they both shut up because neither of them could think of anything else to say just then. 

Kryjerk leaned in to kiss Malty and their lips clung together like duct tape and there tongues tangled and danced together, snaking and quivering, probing and slithering, do-si-doing and promenading home. Cryfix wished he hadn't eaten thos sardines. The vodka he was glad about but the sardines were beginning to repeat on him and heaven knows he didn't want to be accused of having fish breath. 

Mordles incredible man meat was weeping and leaking and drooling and dripping copioiusly from it's one eye and Carchick felt a feeling of great delight as the older man gasped at him, gaspily. 

"I want to plunge my purple headed power ranger into your quivering asslips, Kryceek." He uttered, and Krycheck took one lingering look at the staggering enormity of Muldre's granite hard bed-snake. 

Then he said "Not bloody likely!" Gathered his gun and his little pocket book on things for spies to do and his his hanky that he had used to get spots of dubious origin off the mirror in Multers bathroom and left as silently and mysterioulsly as he had appeared, only this time he didn't open the door first, he just went straight through it if you know what I mean. 

* * *

Disclaimer: All the pretty boys are taken, but I can wish   
Rated: NC17 for badfic. There might be sex too, who can tell?   
Plot: Mulder-Krycek-Mulder-Krycek-manpole-eek!   
Thank you to all my wonderful fans who have begged me to write the next 51 parts of this tragic drama. You know who you are.   
Archive. It's my crowning achievement. How could you not?   
I betad it myself.   
Feedback: Actually, that's all right! I know you're gonna love it, so you don't need to write me. If you really have to tell me how great it is, [email removed]   
---


End file.
